DeDucTion
by thoughtless dreamer
Summary: Sherlock Holmes may very well be the world's greatest consulting detective, one the brightest minds of his time, and the greatest at, well, any endeavor he undertakes not concerning our solar system. But is he cut out to be one of the world's greatest fathers? A short drabble concerning Sherlock, John and their baby that may turn into a series of baby drabbles. Sherlock/John. Fluff


**Disclaimer**: No, I do not own Sherlock. Yes, I die a little bit more over this every day.

**A/N :** So yeah, hey there, heey!~ Have baby adorableness! If it wasn't made very much clear by my past stuff, I _really_ like cute wittle man families. It's kinda what I do.

Warnings: **Yaoi**, mpreg (if this really squicks you, just pretend they adopted I guess? You clearly don't know what you're missing out on~)

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"Sherlock—"

"Deduction. De~duc~tion."

"Sherlock, I really don't think—"

"Quiet, John, I'm teaching. I don't need your negative thinking to get in the way. This is a crucial time."

John rolled his eyes and let out a long suffering sigh, but continued to idly lean against the wall between the kitchen and the living space of their flat, watching with an expression caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement as the raven-haired detective studiously carried on with his important lesson of the day.

"De. Duc. Tion. I know you can say it."

"Sherlock, she's only _five months old,_ for God's sake," John finally blurted out in an exasperated rush, before his lean partner could interrupt him again.

He couldn't keep the corners of his mouth from twitching, however, at the look of absolute insufferable indignity Sherlock was sending up at him from his seat in the middle of the toy-strewn floor of their living room.

"There's no need to be so adverse to an early education, John. And I'm rather offended, by the way, that you're _so_ certain that she couldn't even grasp the one word that could best sum up my occupation," Sherlock sniffed, before turning back to the tiny blonde happily chewing on the wing of a beat up rubber ducky, tiny muffled giggles escaping her every time she managed to chomp hard enough to induce a weak squeak from the poor toy.

"Cassidy, please – concentrate. You can play with Mr. Duck later," Sherlock politely informed the wriggling infant, his face softening as it always did the moment his icy blue eyes (in a much smaller pair) rose to meet his own at the sound of his voice.

She waved her little arms around for a moment, before she relinquished the duck to her father, and made a coo that Sherlock seemed to accept as response.

John tried to bite back the stupid grin he knew was threatening to spread across his face, but he was pretty sure he'd already failed, if the look of mild amusement on Sherlock's face was an indication when he turned to glance up at the blond soldier.

The raven-haired man had clearly intended to send him a customary "I-told-you-so" look when Cassidy "agreed," but apparently, even the world's greatest consulting detective couldn't stay _completely _emotionally detached when it came to his own lover and child.

But, as per usual, Sherlock's attention quickly turned back to the important matter at hand.

"Now – Cassidy. Deduction. Repeat after me."

"Dada."

"Excellent, Cassidy - that was a _wonderful_ example of deduction – very good… but I meant to _say_ the word itself," Sherlock prodded, glancing to John at his station watching over the two of them by the wall, looking rather proud.

"Do you see, John? She's already mastered the _art_ of deduction."

"Or, did you ever consider that she could just be happy to see her Daddy, Sherlock." John prompted helpfully, though he was downright grinning by this point. Not only because for the love of God this was _Sherlock, _who was a _father_.

But also because _bloody hell_, if anyone had told him three years back when they had first met that he and Sherlock were going to have a baby together, let alone _be_ involved, romantically…

Either the soldier would have come out, and he'd have punched them somewhere vital (for, _yet again_, insinuating there was something going on between them when _there obviously was not_), or the doctor would have emerged, and he would have kindly given them a recommendation to a perfectly lovely psychologist he knew.

"Oh, you _always_ have to be such a killjoy, don't you?" Sherlock replied airily.

"Don't listen to him, Cassidy, I know what you're really accomplishing. Your Mummy just wants you to stay a baby forever. He's already afraid of you leaving the nest," Sherlock informed her, smiling faintly when she let out a gurgle as she started to try and turn in her carrier to look towards John too.

The detective helpfully gave her carrier a slight scoot in the doctor's direction, and his smile even twitched wider when a happy squeal left her when she finally managed to catch a glimpse of her mother, the adorable sound immediately bringing John over.

He settled down to kneel beside the two Holmes (well, one technically a Watson-Holmes) and he leaned in to give her a kiss on the forehead, brushing a hand lovingly over her downy head.

"And your Daddy is ever so determined to make you grow up too fast, darling," John retorted sweetly, running a thumb over her cheek before settling back and shaking his head at Sherlock as he returned Mr. Ducky to her tiny, outstretched fingers.

"I know she's _your_ daughter, Sherlock, but you have to understand – babies are babies," John explained slowly for what had to be at _least _the thousandth time. "There's a sort of pattern to the way babies develop, and three syllable words just aren't their thing at this age."

"Dee-duhn."

Both Sherlock and John looked to her in surprise – John in absolute bafflement as she looked meaningfully up at Sherlock's almost shocked expression, and repeated "Dee-duhn" as if just to be sure he was paying attention.

John could only mouth wordlessly as Sherlock immediately _beamed_ at Cassidy and promptly lifted her out of her carrier to her squealing delight, and he brought her face just close enough to his to brush their noses together. "That's _right_, Cassidy – '_Dee-duhn.'_ Oh, you were _so_ close – _good_ for you, that's my little girl."

John looked on at his lover going absolutely… well, _emotional_ over their daughter, and despite the growing headache from the mantra _ .__**ONLY**__Sherlock_ running through his head, could only manage to lean against Sherlock's shoulder, resting his head in the crook of his neck and sighing. "_Only_ you, Sherlock Holmes, could teach our daughter _deduction_ before _'no_.'"

"Don't be silly, John – we mastered that last week."

"…_Perfect._ Now that she's learned _that_ I get to deal with _two_ children."

"John, I _highly_ resent that implication."

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A/N : Yeah so this is just what happened in about twenty minutes the other day while I was just fawning over the idea of them being parents. And this might just very well be the start to a few baby drabbles, if the way my roommate was d'awwig over them and Cassidy is any implication. She's the awesometastic one who finally convinced me to start writing and posting things again, after all.

_Thanks so much for reading! Please review, it brings me joy!~_


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